


A Canary and a Coal Mine

by Willdoodleforcoffee



Category: Wolf 359 (Radio)
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1920s, M/M, sharing a lighter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-03
Updated: 2019-10-03
Packaged: 2020-11-22 08:49:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20871479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Willdoodleforcoffee/pseuds/Willdoodleforcoffee
Summary: A speakeasy singer and a mob hand have a friendly conversation.





	A Canary and a Coal Mine

**Author's Note:**

> I made a 1920s au after not posting for at least a year because I'm a menace.
> 
> I tried to work in a little bit of 20's slang, and most of them have pretty easily inferred meanings, but "to sing" also meant "to confess"

The audience silences as house lights dim.

For a moment, the only sounds are soft clinking from the bar and a distinctive hum from the band doing last minute tuning and readying their instruments for the next act.

There’s a smile behind the microphone.

“Good evening, Dear Listeners.” 

One olive toned hand steadies the stand, the other slicking back hair that was far too long to be in style in an exaggerated attempt to be suave, earning a chuckle or two from the audience.

“I’m disappointed to announce that the star of our show tonight is feeling a bit too blue to join us.”

Anyone who wasn’t seated already, or who wasn’t watching from the edges of an empty dance floor, turn their attention. A few scattered boos echo and the man onstage clutches his chest in feign distress.

“I know! It’s terrible! The poor thing. Hopefully I won’t be too shoddy of a replacement tonight.”

A few regulars hoot, and the man grins ear to ear. The Hephaestus’ patrons were mere silhouettes, but he didn’t need to see to know that his boss was rolling her eyes at his theatrics from behind the bar.

A quick gesture to the band behind him, and the band and the club swing to life.

—

“Tryin’ to gravel up that pretty voice?”

He jumps, nearly dropping his lit cigarette into the alley below. With a huff, he grumbles into his hand without turning around.

“Well, aren't you the pot calling the kettle black. No one comes up here just to bump gums.”

The voice behind him laughs, shifting to his right.

“I’m not a singer. I don’t make a living on my voice.” 

“Listen, singing is honestly more of a -... more of a hobby.” 

The man’s snark falters as he actually sees who joined him. It wasn’t a face he knows, but not one he’d soon forget. Soft handsome features on dark skin, contrasting sharply against the pale gnarled scars vining up from the left side of his jaw.

The stranger grins, an unlit cigarette between his teeth. 

“Got a light?”

Wordlessly, he pulls a match from his vest pocket and hands it to the man before him, who’s smile grows absolutely catlike as he plucks it from the singer’s hand. With a small skrtch the stranger is aglow, the soft orange warming his face and glinting off of round spectacles and dark eyes. Fire looked natural on him.

“...Got a name?”

He blinks, only now realizing he’d been not so subtly staring.

“Doug! I mean-...Douglas, Douglas Eiffel. Sorry.”

The stranger chuckles and sets an elbow onto the iron rail of the balcony, leaning heavily against the metal after propping a brass tipped cane against it.

“No worries, you aren’t the first bird I’ve left speechless.” 

He shoots Eiffel a wink that’s just exaggerated enough to make him laugh before extending a hand.

“Daniel Jacobi. A pleasure.”

“Likewise.”

The handshake lingers a second longer than it needs to before the two pull apart, only half returning their attention to the cigarettes still pressed between fingers. Light filters onto the balcony from apartments above in dim yellows and blues, looking dusted in the rising smoke. 

“...So. What _do_ you do?”__

_ _Eiffel glances up, one eyebrow arched._ _

_ _“You said singing was a hobby. So.” Jacobi takes a drag and breathes out slow, smoke curling around him. “What do you do?”_ _

_ _Eiffel pushes himself from the railing, stepping around so he faces the other man. With the sheer size of Jacobi’s personality, it surprises him to find that he was the taller one once he straightens up._ _

_ _“I work with radios.”_ _

_ _“On air?”_ _

_ _“Used to be, few years back.” Eiffel shrugs, fiddling with what was left of his cigarette between his thumb and his index finger. “Music kind of came along with it. Mostly just fix ‘em now.”_ _

_ _“So you’ve got a pretty mouth _and_ you’re good with your hands. You must be popular.” Jacobi smirks when Eiffel snorts at him and shoots a grin right back.___ _

_ _ _ _“Careful, smile any wider and you’ll have the Cheshire Cat suing for copyright infringement.” _ _ _ _

_ _ _ _“Funny.”_ _ _ _

_ _ _ _“As if _you_ aren’t having fun.” Eiffel braves a step forward, leaving about a foot between them, maybe less._ _ _ _ __

_ _ _ _Jacobi tilts his head back a smidge to meet Eiffel’s gaze, looking fairly amused. He reaches up and pats his cheek, chuckling as Eiffel’s eyes widen when he leaves it there._ _ _ _

_ _ _ _“Oh I am, don’t get me wrong.” Jacobi’s eyes travel up from Eiffel’s chest to his face and the singer can’t help but feel as if he’s being appraised. _ _ _ _

_ _ _ _“But I’ll warn you now, I’m not the kind of person you want to be singing about.”_ _ _ _

_ _ _ _The words come out in a harsh whisper, and Eiffel’s breath catches in his throat. He hadn’t realized how much he’d been pressing into the scarred hand against his face. He isn’t sure how much Jacobi was pulling him closer and how much he was leaning down of his own volition, but they were much closer than they were a minute ago._ _ _ _

_ _ _ _“I- uh, well-“_ _ _ _

_ _ _ _“Sorry to interrupt, gentlemen.”_ _ _ _

_ _ _ _Eiffel jumps back, letting out an undignified yelp. Jacobi, unphased, leans to the side to send a lopsided smile to the figure in the doorway. Light from inside backlit a halo of red curls, leaving the woman that joined them ethereal and burning._ _ _ _

_ _ _ _“Hey ‘Lana, quittin’ time already?”_ _ _ _

_ _ _ _She nods, eyeing Eiffel with smooth calculation before returning her attention to Jacobi._ _ _ _

_ _ _ _“Chief says we’re done here, can we please leave before he makes a scene this time?”_ _ _ _

_ _ _ _Jacobi nods back, cane already in his hands again. He takes the arm offered at the doorway, looking back for a moment to address a justifiably perplexed Eiffel._ _ _ _

_ _ _ _“It was nice to formally meet you, Douglas. Sorry to leave so abruptly, but don’t worry.”_ _ _ _

_ _ _ _He flashes another grin, a bit more venomous than before._ _ _ _

_ _ _ _“I’ll see you around.”_ _ _ _


End file.
